The Language of Love
by toujourspret
Summary: Suka's having troubles learning English, so the boys come up with an easy studying method: listening to it in its native form. Just a cute little fluff ficlet which came to me after listening to (and translating) Lady Marmalade!


The Language of Love?!  
A Here Is Greenwood ficlet   
by r-chan  
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The four boys were piled into Mitsuru's and   
Shinobu's room, studying. Suka was buried beneath a   
stack of history books on the Tokugawa Shogunate as tall  
as he was, and Shun was nibbling on the end of his   
eraser, pleading to the muses for inspiration on his   
Modern Japanese essay. Mitsuru was glancing over the   
rough patches in his English vocabulary, glaring   
malevolently at Shinobu, who was perched coolly on his   
bed, a French book cracked in his hand.  
"Remind me WHY I'm studying English?" Mitsuru   
sighed, throwing his book to the floor in disgust. "I'm  
never gonna get that bizarre thing they do to their   
'r's. How do you split that into two sounds, anyway?"   
he puffed.  
"Easily. You don't touch the back of your teeth  
when you say 'r,' and you do for the 'l,' " Shinobu   
concluded, flipping his book down to Mitsuru. "Try your  
hand at this."  
The blonde flipped through it quickly, aghast.   
"It's got more 'l's than English! How can you study   
this?"   
"They say it's the language of love, " Shinobu   
avoided a potential rant from his neighbors and lover   
about 'keeping his brains to himself' by biting back a   
comment on how easy it was.  
"Oh, really?" Shun's interest was peaked, and   
the pencil fell to the table, forgotten. Suka peered   
over his tomes of history, for once interested in what   
the sempai was going to say. "Say something!"  
"Ah, ah, " Shinobu paused, racking his brain.   
"What should I say?"  
"Whatever you feel like saying!" Shun chirped.  
"Parlez-vous pas Anglais, " he stated simply,   
watching the others for their reactions.  
"Wow! Shinobu-sempai, you're sooo smart!" Shun  
giggled, picking up his pencil.   
"I wanna know what he said, " Suka said   
stubbornly. "He probably made it up."  
"Actually, when you put the words he used   
together, " Mitsuru interrupted, holding Shinobu's   
book, "it means, 'You can't speak English, ' or 'You   
don't speak English.'" He handed the book to the   
spluttering youth.  
"It does not!" Suka denied.  
"Yes, it does, " Shinobu responded, lifting the  
book from his hands, and kicked his feet almost   
childishly at the boy.  
"Ne, Mitsuru-sempai, I've always heard that one   
of the best ways to get a feel for a language is to   
listen to it spoken or sung naturally. Don't we have an  
American station here in Tokyo?" Shun offered. "We   
could turn it on and listen to it for a while."  
"That's a good idea, " Shinobu offered,   
stretching over to the radio and turning it on. A   
spunky song came on the radio, and Shun's eyes lit up.   
"I know this song! It came out with a movie; I  
forget what it was called . . . about a burlesque. The  
Mule in Rouge?" he guessed.   
"A mule in red?" Shinobu's critical eyebrow   
raised at the pink haired boy, who blushed and bent back  
over his paper.   
"At least, that's how I heard it, " Shun   
blushed.  
"Then again, Mitsuru, his English is better than  
yours, because he actually came close to the real word,   
and translated it, " Shinobu turned to his lover, who  
only growled in response.   
"I believe you mean 'The Moulin Rouge,'"   
Shinobu corrected, and Shun grinned.  
"That's it! It's about a burlesque house, ne?"  
"Yes."  
The song carried on in the background, naming   
the place in question after a jumble of mish-mashed   
English phrases. After it, another few lines of   
nonsense echoed on the airwaves, followed by distict   
French.  
As soon as it had gone by, Suka turned an   
expectant eye on Shinobu. "Well? What did that mean?"  
he demanded.  
Shinobu smirked at him. "You don't want to   
know."  
"I do too! Tell me!" Suka had pushed his books  
away now, glaring at his sempai.  
"Fine. I'll translate, " Shinobu suddenly   
adopted the look of a cat that had just caught the   
canary, and before Suka could mutter a 'why me?,' he   
leveled the redhead with a Look. "You asked for it.  
"'Voules-vouz coucher avec moi cet soir,' as the  
song said, means 'I want you in bed with me tonight, '"  
he grinned evilly at his neighbor, who shot blood across  
the entire room. Shun looked on in worried interest,   
and Mitsuru stood up, grabbing his tape measurer.  
"Congratulations, Shinobu, you've just got the   
best ranking on the boards. That's a lot of money, "   
the blonde snickered. "And you're in the best for   
winning it."  
Shun turned on his sempai with an exasperated   
look. "You guys were betting on how far you could make  
blood shoot from Suka's nose? Is there anything you two  
DON'T bet on?"  
"Nope, " Mitsuru grinned, pocketing his tape   
measurer.  
"And he begged to be told what it meant, "   
Shinobu reminded him.  
"And it was your idea to listen to the radio!"   
Mitsuru added. Shun sighed, hanging his head.  
"At least help me get him back to our room, "   
he sighed, grabbing Suka's wrists. "He's too innocent   
to be living next to you two . . . "  
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OWARI! 


End file.
